(Recognize the title reference? Extra points for you.)
36 years ago, I:
~ was born.
This is the earliest photo of myself that I've scanned.
~ was born.
This is the earliest photo of myself that I've scanned.31 years ago, I:
~ started kindergarten on my fifth birthday. In my infinite ego, I kind of thought that everybody did it that way.
The grocery store cake with greasy frosting was a big deal--someone had won a radio contest to get it for me.
~ started kindergarten on my fifth birthday. In my infinite ego, I kind of thought that everybody did it that way.
The grocery store cake with greasy frosting was a big deal--someone had won a radio contest to get it for me. 23 years ago, I:
~ spent most of my birthday sobbing. One of my cats, Herman, was hit by a car and killed. I turned 13 that day.
22 years ago, I:
~ started 9th grade, again on my birthday. It was to happen once more in my educational career.
19 years ago, I:
~ turned 17 and started my senior year of high school. Sigh.
~ spent most of my birthday sobbing. One of my cats, Herman, was hit by a car and killed. I turned 13 that day.
22 years ago, I:
~ started 9th grade, again on my birthday. It was to happen once more in my educational career.
19 years ago, I:
~ turned 17 and started my senior year of high school. Sigh.
17 years ago, I:
~ turned 19. I was living with my friend Maureen and her husband and children. It was their tradition to "celebrate" the birthday of a family member by waking that person with a pigpile. That means that they would sneak into the person's bedroom before they awoke and, perfectly coordinated, jump on top of them to awaken them. They thought of me as a member of the family, so they pigpiled me. The problem was that I was sleeping in a bed that wasn't in the best shape. The addition of five people to the weight of the original person and the ton of blankets that I needed to stay warm in the ungodly cold basement meant that the bed broke. There was an ominous "whoomp" and then we all sank a foot down to the floor.
That night they threw a surprise party for me. That went pretty far toward making up for the indignities of the morning.
About eight weeks later (on October 1) I would adopt my kittens.
15 years ago, I:
~ turned 21. I was dating the man who would become my husband. He was soon to move to The Mitten to start graduate school at that University. I would live that year with my roommate from junior year, Christine, and finish my BA in History (although I'd taken nearly all of my major classes during my second and third years). That year I spent the overwhelming percentage of my time drinking, working, or writing letters.
14 1/2 years ago, I:
~ had been engaged for 5 months. The wedding was less than 4 months away. I had no clue. No clue.
10 years ago, I:
~ Turned 26.
~ Had, less than 2 months before, undergone much more major surgery than anyone realized, and under much more serious circumstances than would be apparent for another month yet.
~ Had been a 1L (first year law student) for 9 days. Talk about having no clue.
~ Had been married for 4 years. Thought that I understood what that meant. Well, maybe I was starting to realize it.
~ Oh, had moved to the Flat from The Mitten. Finally, back to some semblance of sanity (ha). Was living in a rented house that I would come to love.
9 1/2 years ago, I:
~ Had 6 months of law school under my belt. I was no longer visibly shaking when I walked into class, but the experience was taking its toll. I ate M&Ms constantly as a form of positive reinforcement. (Read a paragraph, get an M&M. That is a motherfucking shitload of M&Ms.)
~ Was still convinced that I would finish writing my MA thesis during the summer after my first year of law school.
5 years ago, I:
~ turned 31. I'd graduated from law school in '99 and passed the bar. I had been working in my current position since that year. Things were pretty much settled. Married for 9 years at this point, making good money (both of us, for the first time ever), living in a place that we both liked. Settled.
If I really let myself think about it, I realize that I was starting to feel that something was not right.
2 years ago, I:
~ turned 34. Married (12 years), but with a much more tenuous hold. I was 17 days away from moving out of the house that we'd bought a couple of years before, and a couple of months away from divorce. I was sad and scared and happy and terrified and lonely and miserable and torturing myself because...well, I lived through it.
~ I worked that day. It was a Friday, and the office was short-staffed so someone was filling in. She wasn't accustomed to some things that seemed to be happening with great regularity--interpersonal things--and she reacted with concern, which came as a surprise to me, and the surprise eventually turned into a sort of tender appreciation for her, and for the situation. I had plans after work, dinner at the Irish place with a good friend who is no more. Before I left, though, I was called into service by someone else who needed me. Unforgettable. It was one of those moments where one simply acts and reacts, and allows the situation to direct itself.
1 year ago, I:
~ turned 35, and had a varied birthday experience. Tiaras at work (ick), jambalaya and giggly chatter with friends (...), seeing Robert (wherefore art thou, Robert???), and the whole day without the person with whom I most wanted to be, unavoidably. I received some quite nice gifts and felt very much thought of and cared for, don't get me wrong. But it was a melancholy day. And it would be followed by an even more...
No, not "an even more melancholy day." It was followed by a day that had the potential to be really fantastic, or that could have been pretty good, or even could have been saved by some aspects despite some real nastiness here and there, but which turned out to be one of the worst days I've ever had. General sullenness, a stupid argument, refusal to accept responsibility for one's own actions, pointless stubbornness (that would be me), another argument, idiotic silence, and the launch of a feud that may still be lingering a year later.
~ turned 21. I was dating the man who would become my husband. He was soon to move to The Mitten to start graduate school at that University. I would live that year with my roommate from junior year, Christine, and finish my BA in History (although I'd taken nearly all of my major classes during my second and third years). That year I spent the overwhelming percentage of my time drinking, working, or writing letters.
14 1/2 years ago, I:
~ had been engaged for 5 months. The wedding was less than 4 months away. I had no clue. No clue.
10 years ago, I:
~ Turned 26.
~ Had, less than 2 months before, undergone much more major surgery than anyone realized, and under much more serious circumstances than would be apparent for another month yet.
~ Had been a 1L (first year law student) for 9 days. Talk about having no clue.
~ Had been married for 4 years. Thought that I understood what that meant. Well, maybe I was starting to realize it.
~ Oh, had moved to the Flat from The Mitten. Finally, back to some semblance of sanity (ha). Was living in a rented house that I would come to love.
9 1/2 years ago, I:
~ Had 6 months of law school under my belt. I was no longer visibly shaking when I walked into class, but the experience was taking its toll. I ate M&Ms constantly as a form of positive reinforcement. (Read a paragraph, get an M&M. That is a motherfucking shitload of M&Ms.)
~ Was still convinced that I would finish writing my MA thesis during the summer after my first year of law school.
5 years ago, I:
~ turned 31. I'd graduated from law school in '99 and passed the bar. I had been working in my current position since that year. Things were pretty much settled. Married for 9 years at this point, making good money (both of us, for the first time ever), living in a place that we both liked. Settled.
If I really let myself think about it, I realize that I was starting to feel that something was not right.
2 years ago, I:
~ turned 34. Married (12 years), but with a much more tenuous hold. I was 17 days away from moving out of the house that we'd bought a couple of years before, and a couple of months away from divorce. I was sad and scared and happy and terrified and lonely and miserable and torturing myself because...well, I lived through it.
~ I worked that day. It was a Friday, and the office was short-staffed so someone was filling in. She wasn't accustomed to some things that seemed to be happening with great regularity--interpersonal things--and she reacted with concern, which came as a surprise to me, and the surprise eventually turned into a sort of tender appreciation for her, and for the situation. I had plans after work, dinner at the Irish place with a good friend who is no more. Before I left, though, I was called into service by someone else who needed me. Unforgettable. It was one of those moments where one simply acts and reacts, and allows the situation to direct itself.
1 year ago, I:
~ turned 35, and had a varied birthday experience. Tiaras at work (ick), jambalaya and giggly chatter with friends (...), seeing Robert (wherefore art thou, Robert???), and the whole day without the person with whom I most wanted to be, unavoidably. I received some quite nice gifts and felt very much thought of and cared for, don't get me wrong. But it was a melancholy day. And it would be followed by an even more...
No, not "an even more melancholy day." It was followed by a day that had the potential to be really fantastic, or that could have been pretty good, or even could have been saved by some aspects despite some real nastiness here and there, but which turned out to be one of the worst days I've ever had. General sullenness, a stupid argument, refusal to accept responsibility for one's own actions, pointless stubbornness (that would be me), another argument, idiotic silence, and the launch of a feud that may still be lingering a year later.
six months ago, I:
~ was 35 1/2 years old. I was contemplating writing the "15 Moments When You're Gorgeous" post that has become quite popular in search engine land.
~ was 35 1/2 years old. I was contemplating writing the "15 Moments When You're Gorgeous" post that has become quite popular in search engine land.
One month ago, I:
~ got a sunburn that still shows on my shoulders while lazing around at the lake on a day off.
One week ago, I:
~ went out for lunch. Bought some houseplants. Watched The Lost Boys. Got in a long, awful argument that has yet to be resolved, and may have elements of last year's birthday attached.
One day ago, I:
~ had coffee (tea) with a very good friend. She always listens and gives good advice. Not that there's much advice to give, now, but she does what she can.
~ stopped at work because I needed to see a couple of the people who were stuck there; if they hadn't been working (either of them) I'd have dragged them with me for the day's activities.
~ drove. A lot. About 90 miles, to nowhere specific. Wrote some letters. Drank an ocean of tea. Came to no conclusions.
Today, I:
~ have finished my laundry (all but the folding & putting away, which will take about 15 minutes).
~ will open the gifts that I have received over the last couple of days. I'm not one to open things early.
~ have read about 1/3 of the Tribune.
~ will probably order pizza for dinner.
~ have somehow managed to spread a bunch of bead stuff all over my living room floor. I really need to make a space for that...somewhere...so that I don't need to clean it up every time I want to look for one tiny thing.
~ really need to wash the dishes.
~ had email messages waiting from 4 people, wishing me a happy birthday, when I first checked my mail. (Thanks!)
~ have absolutely no plans.
Tomorrow, I:
~ will work my regular Monday hours. There is a LOT of work waiting for me.
~ hope that none of my coworkers do anything stupid & public for my birthday.
~ need to call several people/places to make appointments for various things over the next couple of weeks.
~ will likely feel the full depth of my 36-ness, having gotten almost no sleep last night. Sunday nights are always tough on me; I have that little kid Monday-hating gene.
That should bring us up to date. I think I'll go take a nap.
~ got a sunburn that still shows on my shoulders while lazing around at the lake on a day off.
One week ago, I:
~ went out for lunch. Bought some houseplants. Watched The Lost Boys. Got in a long, awful argument that has yet to be resolved, and may have elements of last year's birthday attached.
One day ago, I:
~ had coffee (tea) with a very good friend. She always listens and gives good advice. Not that there's much advice to give, now, but she does what she can.
~ stopped at work because I needed to see a couple of the people who were stuck there; if they hadn't been working (either of them) I'd have dragged them with me for the day's activities.
~ drove. A lot. About 90 miles, to nowhere specific. Wrote some letters. Drank an ocean of tea. Came to no conclusions.
Today, I:
~ have finished my laundry (all but the folding & putting away, which will take about 15 minutes).
~ will open the gifts that I have received over the last couple of days. I'm not one to open things early.
~ have read about 1/3 of the Tribune.
~ will probably order pizza for dinner.
~ have somehow managed to spread a bunch of bead stuff all over my living room floor. I really need to make a space for that...somewhere...so that I don't need to clean it up every time I want to look for one tiny thing.
~ really need to wash the dishes.
~ had email messages waiting from 4 people, wishing me a happy birthday, when I first checked my mail. (Thanks!)
~ have absolutely no plans.
Tomorrow, I:
~ will work my regular Monday hours. There is a LOT of work waiting for me.
~ hope that none of my coworkers do anything stupid & public for my birthday.
~ need to call several people/places to make appointments for various things over the next couple of weeks.
~ will likely feel the full depth of my 36-ness, having gotten almost no sleep last night. Sunday nights are always tough on me; I have that little kid Monday-hating gene.
That should bring us up to date. I think I'll go take a nap.
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